


Thank you, Miss Mills

by OTPSwanQueen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 02:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12902091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPSwanQueen/pseuds/OTPSwanQueen
Summary: *AU- No magic* Emma Swan is an adult college student who can’t seem to keep her head out of the clouds. Her professor, Miss Mills, endeavors to teach her the value of staying focused while keeping her after class. Written from Emma’s POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, I don’t own these characters. This is a repost of my fic at another site, which I’m moving away from using. I do all this on my phone. Please excuse weird spacing. Enjoy!!!

She must be trying to distract me at this point. How can anyone get any work done when she's up there, sitting on the edge of her desk... and that dress. What the fuck is she doing wearing that dress? Usually she's in a tight skirt and a blouse... but she's wearing that dress today.  
That black dress that makes it obvious that she doesn't need a bra to hold anything up... that black dress that might be painted on if the fabric weren't visibly cascading down, separating only in the right places to reveal her thighs. And those legs... those legs-

"Time's up."

Goddamnit. I haven't written anything. What can I do? She's gliding around the room collecting papers and I have nothing. I rest my forehead in my hands and will the words to write themselves before she makes it to the back row where I sit, on purpose, so I can daydream. I really need to stop doing that. I just get so lost in my own thoughts and she is so very stunning that I can't even help myself. I spend all class and much of my day afterward wondering what it might be like to see what could lie beyond fantasy.

Her impossibly high heels stop clicking at my desk. I see her outstretched palm and I consider pressing my cheek to it, but that would just be weird. I put my blank paper there, instead, and I avoid eye contact. She stalls for just a moment, but moves on without acknowledging me, either way. As she leaves, I find I'm out of breath. Had I forgotten to breath the whole time? I try not to be rude, but you try not to stare at how a Goddess moves when she walks away from you.

I was glad, for once, that she didn't speak to me. I was embarrassed enough at my poor showing, and on an exam, no less. The silence fades as everyone begins to pack up their things. All I brought was a pencil and this notebook, but I am the last one headed for the door. If I'm honest, I just want any excuse to steal one more glance. That dress is too much for this class. I mean, it's not enough. She's getting up from her desk. Why is she getting up from her desk? Why is she coming over here? Has she noticed me being weird again?

"Emma? Did you hear me?"

She breaks through my internal freak out. She had been speaking to me and I hadn't heard her. I do love when she says my name, though.

"Sorry," I mutter, spinning on my heel to leave. Her hand catches my arm firmly and I am being pulled back toward the desks, all the way in the back. She doesn't let go until I am planted in my own desk once more. I frown, confused as she walks back to the front of the room.

She returns with the test booklet and puts it on my desk. She leans over and places both palms on its surface, her hair spills down into her face, but I'm having a hard time focusing because now I can kind of see down the front of that dress... "How about you actually do it this time, Miss Swan?"

That's all I heard. I assume she's talking about the work. Why can't I snap out of this?

She sighs heavily and turns a chair around so that she can sit in front of me, her legs crossed at the knee. Her bare legs, practically. She snaps her fingers and redirects my attention, "It's rude to stare."  
"I'm sorry." I murmur for the second time that day.  
"Don't apologize," she responds shortly, "do your work."  
"Well, it's hard to do when you're sitting there watching me." That might be the most I've ever said to her. It is. It definitely is.

She is unfazed. She leans forward so she can make sure I'm listening, and she has the slightest hint of a smile going on, "I know. I do my work all class long while you watch me."

The direct conversation boosts my confidence, "Right, but you're a teacher. We're supposed to watch you."  
Her smile broadens, "I'm not talking about students in general, but you are correct. I am a teacher, and you are here to learn," She reaches over, nudges my hand out of the way and taps my blank paper, "and what you need to learn, is to do your work. You have twenty minutes left."

I look down at my paper and press my pencil to the first line. I don't want to fill the test booklet prompt. I hate being told what to write. It turns writing from fun into a chore. Staring at the paper isn't getting anything done.  
"I hate these test prompts." I complain aloud.

"15 minutes." Comes the simple reply.

I push my paper toward the edge of my desk and throw my hands up. I don't have it today and now I'm agitated. "You can take it now. I'm not going to get it done."

Wordlessly, she uncrosses her legs and reaches for my paper. The thin strap of her dress slips down her shoulder as she collects my miserably blank exam. She doesn't bother to fix it. She places the papers with the rest on her desk and rounds it to sit down. Without looking up, she nods toward the door, "I don't imagine you have much use for this class. I will mark you withdrawn so your grade point average doesn't suffer."

Uh. What?

I approach her desk tentatively. "I don't want to withdraw..." I clarify. My eyes wander again. Her shoulder strap still dangles down.

She regards me somewhat coldly, but nods toward the desk behind me, "then get that chair and bring it here. You have 12 minutes to finish your exam."

I drag the chair to the opposite side of her desk and busy myself with writing. It's tedious and I hate it. I'd rather write the things that happen in my head, but when she tells me time is up, at least I have something. I slide it across the desk and wait.

After a moment, she looks at me, "I expect much better from you, Miss Swan, but I'll accept this for now." She stands and sweeps a hand toward the door preparing to say something, I'm sure, but that misplaced strap is killing me. I reach over and slide it back over her shoulder and she stops in her tracks, her head swiveling slowly so she can look at me head on. Her eyes are intense and serious. I can't read her. What have I done? She draws her lips into a thin line and she walks to the door slowly, her hips swaying with all the femininity of Gaia. She reaches out and turns the lock. The click it makes is deafening.

I watch her close the blinds across the far wall until there is no possibility of anyone seeing either of us. My legs tremble when she approaches me, her hand on my lower back propels me forward until my hips press against her desk, pushing more until I am just bent at the waist, my fingertips on the desk top hold me up.  
She's in my ear all of a sudden. I can feel her pressed up against me, her hands on my hips, her breath hot in my ear. "There is so much I could do to you right now."  
She leaves me.

She rounds the desk and sits in her chair, this time reclining with her feet up, legs crossed at the ankles. She looks me in my eyes and she reaches up and pulls her shoulder strap down, first on one side, and then the other. She slides each arm out of the straps and plays with the edge of the fabric that covers her breasts, but her eyes never leave my face. Am I breathing? Breathe.  
I don't know what she wants me to do.

She slides a hand down her thigh to the edge of a slit in the fabric and gathers a handful, pulling it along, she brings it up far enough that I can see her hip, but nothing else. She is very clearly not wearing any panties. No bra. No panties. It's just that thin, black dress that separates her smooth skin from the outside world.

She points to the floor beside her chair and snaps her fingers lightly. I don't know exactly what she wants when I get there, but I know where I'm supposed to be, and I get there in a hurry.

"On your knees."

I hesitate. I don't really like to present myself like this. But it's just us... no one else is watching and no one else will know. I sink to my knees and she swivels her chair, placing one foot on either side of my knees. She reaches down and taps the inside of my thigh. I spread my knees shoulder width apart and she is pleased.

Breathe.

She lets one side of her dress slip down over her breast, the beautiful flesh popping out with quite a satisfying little bounce. My throat feels so dry, but I'm entirely tuned in. I am captivated as she lifts a finger to her lips and wets it before trailing it around her nipple slowly. I am intimidated at how easily she maintains eye contact, even as she lets her hand creep down her abdomen and through the slit in the dress at her hip. I can tell by the way the fabric moves, she is touching herself. She is swirling a finger, at least, around her clit. She's wet.  
I can hear it. I can hear her. I can *smell* her. "So you can focus," she assesses breathily.

Breathe.

I finally dare to move, reaching out to grab a piece of that dress. I want to see.

"No." She says simply, lifting her foot, her heel pressing into my collarbone as she pushes me back onto my haunches. She works faster, her breathing becoming a bit labored. She allows herself to break eye contact now, always coming back to me. I want to be annoyed, but I'll wait because this is something one doesn't get to see every day.

Her other hand disappears beneath the dress and she scoots down in the chair, her essence is just inches from my face, still I cannot see.

Fucking dress.

I can hear her slide her fingers inside herself as she rubs her clit. It sounds as though she should be sitting in a puddle by now.

At any movement, I am met with her heel, pressing me back into position. She comes... she bites her bottom lip and moans softly, her legs shaking as she spasms around her own fingers. Her scent permeates the room and I feel like I am going insane. Before I can complain, she composes herself, pulls her shoulder strap up, and speaks to me, "Next time, do your work when you're supposed to, and do it well. Maybe I will reward you."  
She gathers her papers up and stacks them, tapping them on their edges to bring them into conformity. I haul myself to my feet. I have something to tend to at home. Myself, mostly. As I unlock the door and open it, she tells me to wait, "If I were you, I would consider writing an essay of apology to my professor for such poor effort." She pauses to read my expression. "I should have it on my desk tomorrow. It will determine the nature of our after-class meeting."

Breathe.

I rush home and begin the essay.  
Miss Mills,  
I'm writing to express my remorse for my poor performance in class earlier. I know you wanted me to put this on your desk...  
It becomes a rambling set of paragraphs that only barely conceals my admiration for everything about her, but I email it to her faculty account before I can edit it because... I don't want to.

Three hours later I get a response. She thanks me for the effort I made... she enjoyed reading my essay and my apology is accepted. She asks me for my address...  
She wants my fucking address. She doesn't tell me why and I don't ask. I just send it back.

Two hours later, there's a knock on the door. I open it and there she is in her dark wash jeans, her tight shirt, and her black leather jacket that fits like a tailored blazer. It doesn't matter what she wears, she looks incredible, and it looks like someone poured it on.  
I stand there like an idiot because I have no idea of what to do until she puts her palm in the middle of my chest and pushes me into the apartment, closing the door behind us. She pins me up against the wall with her thigh between my legs and whispers into my mouth, "I've decided to give you a little reward now." And she kisses me.

It's deep and soft. My hands cup her neck, my fingers in her hair. Her tongue presses into my mouth and her hands move down to my ass, squeezing it hard before sliding her hands up to my breasts, just ghosting over them. She smiles into the kiss and I know it's because she felt my nipples harden. I bite her lip softly, playing the way I do, and she seizes my lower lip between her teeth hard. I know it's a warning. This is no negotiation. It is a gift from her to me and I am not to take anything more than she gives. She lets go, "If you want this, you will need to prove that you do." I move to run my hands up her sides and she grabs my wrists and pins them over my head as I kiss her back. She breaks the kiss too soon, "I'll see you in class tomorrow, Miss Swan," she says simply, slipping out as suddenly as she came in.

As soon as she's out of view I give my shaking knees a break and flop down onto the couch. My breath returns over the next couple of minutes as I process what just happened. I am painfully aware of the ache between my legs, but my chatty roommate will be home soon, so I can't relieve myself just yet.

I lean back and cross my legs, flexing my thigh muscles as I replay what happened. It was just a kiss, but it was so much more. I can feel where she touched me... all the blood in my body seems to be pounding so much harder in those places. My lip, where her teeth bit down, is on fire, but only because it misses the sensation. I need more. I want more of her. More from her. I consider the memory of her hands on my ass, how it felt to put my hands in her hair. I wanted to pull it. I wanted her to bite me harder.

I can't even believe any of this happened at all... she is beyond me. Out of my league. She tastes good, smells good, feels good... how am I supposed to go back to class and do anything? How am I supposed to prove my worth? I decide I want to ride this wave of longing into next class and see where it takes me.

As I settle in my room for the night, I send off a quick email and close my laptop. Thank you, Miss Mills.  
I wake up excited for class, for once. My first class has been cancelled for the rest of the week, which means I can go straight to the only class I'm interested in at the moment.

I'm feeling a little emboldened. A little more confident. A little full of myself. She knows I want her, but I know she wants me as well. That has to count for something. I consider wearing a skirt for her, but I decide against it... I can't play all my cards at once. I don't usually wear a skirt. I pull my usual skinny jeans on followed by a tight, white tee and a thin cardigan. I step into my boots, lace them up, and grab my notebook and an apple before heading off.

She's sitting at her desk. She's not wearing the dress, but she's as stunning as ever in some sort of black overcoat, though I can't see what's beneath it. I'm going to do whatever I need to do to "prove" myself to her, but I'm going to do it my way, and to be me, I need to be able to play. I stop by her desk and place the apple on it, pushing it toward her just a little. She looks up at me for the briefest moment and I grin at her. I pick the apple back up and take a bite out of it, wiping the juice off my chin with the back of my hand and put it down on her desk again without looking at her before I retreat to my desk in the back.

I spend the class period participating, and trying my best not to stare. It's chilly in the room. My sweater protects me, but she is clearly cold. She has removed the overcoat and she's in a charcoal grey pencil skirt and a tight, silk blouse. I can see her nipples pressing against its confines. I imagine pinching them lightly between my teeth through the fabric as I run my hands up her abdomen and around her waist, pulling her hips to mine...

"Are you always somewhere else?"  
Her tone isn't unkind, but I know it must be tiring trying to keep me focused in class, and there is a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"I'm sorry, Miss Mills."

"I asked what you thought of the reading assignment, Emma."

She knows I didn't read a thing last night. "Uh. I thought it was very...engaging."

She lets her hand fall, her fingers skimming the top of my desk, "anything in particular that piqued your interest?" Her fingers brush just past my arm and I have goosebumps. She unravels my cockiness from earlier with ease. How unnerving.

"I thought the whole piece was very... mentally arousing."

One of the guys to my right laughs, but she doesn't acknowledge him. She makes her way back to the front of the room. Her perfume lingers at my desk long after she has left.

I manage to make it through the rest of the class, but I'm having a little trouble controlling my own breath again as I see the rest of the class file out. She looks at me finally and she taps her desk with a single finger. I get up and have to stop myself from looking too eager, making my way up to the opposite side of her desk again. She uses the end of her pen to slowly push the bitten apple toward me. I reach for it, but she pushes my hand away with the pen. She looks at my mouth and bites her lower lip. After a moment of unyielding eye contact, I bend down and pick the apple up by its stem with my teeth.

She sits back and crosses her legs again, her eyebrows lifted, waiting to see what I'll do if she gives me no direction.

Well, if she insists. I drop to my knees and I crawl around the desk to her, dropping the apple in her lap, but I don't wait for any further instruction. I lean up and kiss her from my knees, running my hands up her thighs. Our lips meet again and I bite her lip gently, reminding her of the night before. I want to take her breath away like she did mine. I want to be so close she can't push me away. I want to play.

I reach up and let my palm rest on the back of her neck before letting my fingers wander through the hair at the base of her neck so I can give it a tug, pulling her in, deepening the kiss. My other hand plays with the fabric of her top, itching to slide under, but she stops me. I can't help it, I'm impatient. I'm demanding. Maybe a little needy sometimes.

I pout a little, breaking the kiss, and sit back, my hands still on her thighs, my grip so close to her core, I can feel the heat radiating from her, "What can I do to prove myself to you?"

She peels my fingers off her thighs and looks at me with some irritation, "that will be on my terms."

I sit back and let my hands drop.

She reaches out and hooks a finger in the neck of my shirt, pulling me so I'm on my knees between her legs.  
"I should spank you." She says, cupping my chin. She says it so seriously I'm unsure if I should be worried or turned on. "Maybe I could keep your attention in class. I really should have done so yesterday," she continues, stroking my hair, "but you are just so... pretty. I needed to relieve myself immediately."

I swallow involuntarily, "And now?"

She grins a very wicked kind of grin and she trails her fingertips down my jawline, "Oh, today? I can wait."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don’t own Ouat. This is M for a reason. Let me know what you think!

She leaves me to lock the room down, drawing the blinds again. She doesn't seem to feel the need to look at me through any of it, though I'm sure she knows I'm staring. How can one person be so fucking sexy? Am I imagining she's this hot? How do clothes fit that well on anyone? How does she move so easily in those shoes? How come her lipstick never, and I mean never, strays from its place? And her hair doesn't, either. She's definitely some kind of deity. I don't know if I can even handle-

Her hand is in my hair, yanking my head back. I reach back to catch myself, put she pushes me forward again so I can't put my hands on the floor.

"This is what gets you into trouble, Miss Swan." She growls in my ear. She pulls my head back again and I can feel her knees pressing into my upper back. "Your head is always in the clouds."

She stands and pulls me up with her, only allowing me up on my knees again as she stretches to her full height, her right hand still gripping my hair. She sits in her chair and drags me, without ceremony, over her knees. It's not a comfortable position, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to get even less comfortable as time passes. She's touching me again, though, so that's a bonus. She tries to push my pants down, but they aren't budging.

"Up. Come on." She taps my ass. I lift myself off her and she wastes no time unbuttoning my jeans, slapping my hands away and ignoring that I clearly said I could do it myself. She yanks them down my thighs and pulls me back over her lap.

She rests her elbows on my back. "So, Emma." She sighs. "While I highly doubt it, I would like to make sure I'm not reading you wrong... are you okay with this?"  
"Um, well," I start... do I want her to spank me? I think so. I definitely want her to touch me. To kiss me. To fuck me. To make me hers. I decide I'm willing to accept a little correction if I get all the good stuff that goes along.

“Yes."

"I thought as much." She replies smugly, wrapping her arm around my waist and raising her other hand. She brings it down. I can kind of see it in my peripheral vision when I turn my head. Jesus Christ. It connects and pound for pound, she must have one mean swing, because the sting is so sharp I can't suck air in fast enough to counteract the sensation before she strikes again. A few slaps in, she pulls my panties down, not that they were helping.

"So," she starts talking between spanking me, "Let's address this issue you seem to have with paying attention, Miss Swan."

No matter how far I arch my back or push against the floor with my feet, there is no break and it's already really starting to hurt... and she seems to be very into assaulting the same spots.

"I suspect," she gloats, "that you are feeling quite present right now, aren't you?"

"Yes." I hiss through gritted teeth. One of my hands has found its way around her ankle.

"I'm so glad to hear that." She slaps the lower half of my right ass cheek for what seems like the hundredth time in a row.

"Fuck!" It slips out at the same time my hand flies back to cover the poor spot.

She stops. Calmly, she pries my hand from my own ass and she pulls it behind my back, pressing her palm to mind as if it was a handshake. Worst handshake ever. She continues, starting with the same spot, "You will watch your language, young lady." I’m not sure I like this kind of attention. I mean, I don’t know. Do I? 

"And you will stop floating off on your little imaginary boat in the middle of my class. It is insulting, even if it because you are dreaming about me…" She starts spanking me harder, or at least it feels that way, "and I know that's what you're doing, but during class time, I expect you to learn."

The next minute is silent, save for the slapping sound. I'm just frustrated at this point. It hurts. I can't get away, I can't take a deep breath, and I can feel my eyes welling up. Despite this, I am so turned on, I could burst.

She stops and pulls me up, situating me on my knees between her legs, my chest heaving. I feel it... gravity drags a single tear down my cheek. She grabs my hand as I reach to wipe it away and she watches it fall with a strange sparkle in her eye. "Is that for me, beautiful?" She murmurs, but she's not even really speaking to me. I don't know whether I should be more concerned that she seems to really like my tears or that I am so turned on, I can smell myself. She runs her thumb across my cheek and wipes the tear away. Cupping my chin, she leans in and presses her perfect lips to mine, stealing my breath instantly.

She pulls away and I am reminded that I sat in fire. She studies my face and holds my hands in her lap, "Are you okay, Emma?"

I nod again.

She cocks a brow, "I didn't hear a response."

"Yes, Miss Mills, I'm okay."

"Good." She replies, pulling me again, directing me back across her lap.

I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath, waiting for her palm to descend. Instead, I feel her spreading me open, running her fingers through my wetness and suddenly, she slips at least two fingers inside me as far as they will go and she is stroking my g-spot slowly. Her other hand wanders up under my shirt and her nails rake over the skin on my back just hard enough to distract me from the nicer sensations.

"Emma," She continues fingering me, but she reaches up and strokes my hair, "I want to play with you, but I also want you to succeed in my class."

She grabs my waist and pulls me against her so she can cross her legs. Now my ass is all the way in the air and she starts rubbing my clit. It's all a bit much for my fragile little brain to wrap around. I am suddenly on the edge of cumming. I still can't even comprehend how I got here.

"In fact, I demand it." She adds, snatching her touch away and pushing me off her lap and to my knees again.

"Nooooooo," I moan in frustration.

She leans back in her chair and smiles at me like some kind of sexy shark that wants to eat me.

"I'm going to take you home with me, Miss Swan, and I am going to make you suffer allllllllllllllllll night for my own pleasure while you study, and tomorrow, when I give this class a quiz on the reading assignments so far, you are going to get an A, or you are not going to cum for a week... If you get an A, I will reward you."  
My breath catches in my chest. The idea of her putting her hands on me is unbearably exciting.

She reaches out and strokes my face. I lean into it and she lets me.

"Are you going to please me, Emma?"

I nod again, "Yes, Miss Mills."

"Good girl, because the next time I feel the need to spank you for anything other than my desires, you will not enjoy it so much, Miss Swan. I assure you."

She straightens her blouse and begins to gather her things while I pull my jeans back on. My pussy is so wet and so achy, just walking in the tight denim is torture as I follow her to her car, wondering what the rest of the night will bring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouat isn’t mine. I only own these yummy circumstances the ladies are in. Let me know what you think!

"Seatbelt, Miss Swan."  
I buckle up quickly. She really doesn't leave any room for negotiation, and she never has to point that out, either.

As we drive in silence, I am acutely aware of just how fucked I am. She steals no glances my way. She knows I'm in my head over here. She's definitely driving with a purpose.

We pull up to her place and I'm in awe. How does a teacher afford what amounts to a mansion?

"I wasn't always a teacher." She explains, reading my mind with a small smile. She doesn't offer any more information, so I don't ask. Maybe there will be time for that down the line. We get out of the car and I follow her to her front door... I'm aroused and nervous as hell, but I'm distracted, watching her hips sway ahead of me. She opens the door into her massive foyer and stands back, expecting me to walk in first. She grabs my arm as I do and she pulls me toward her. Her face is serious. She's so fucking sexy. My pussy throbs when she speaks.

"When you walk into my home, the rules are mine... the the pleasure is mine... you are mine. Is that clear?"  
If the lump of fear/arousal in my throat gets any bigger, I may need medical attention. "It's clear." I manage to whisper before she gives me a gentle push across the threshold.

As I stand in the middle of her foyer, taking it all in, she takes her jacket off and slides mine off me without asking. "Shoes off. Wait here." She commands simply. I nod wordlessly, digging the toe of my boot into the heel of the other and her brow furrows. She clicks her tongue quietly and turns away.

"I mean, Yes, Miss Mills!" I call after her, realizing my mistake. She laughs out loud and I can't contain my grin.

Her heels click along the marble floor as she returns with two glasses of wine. She hands me one and hooks her arm through mine, leading me into her living room. I keep catching whiffs of her perfume. She smells so good. I still can't believe I'm here with her. Every move she makes reminds me of some kind of slinky, regal predator... graceful but dangerous. Beautiful and intimidating. I'm still wondering what she sees in me that makes her want to erase that line between teacher and student. I mean, we're both legal, consenting adults, but, you know... this isn't usually the way things-

"Emma."

Ah, I'm distracted again. She is seated in a plush armchair, looking at me... doing that thing with her eyebrow that makes me want to hide, and melt...  
"Sit down, young lady."

Her tone is a bit harsh, but her face softens as I realize, again, that my place is on the fluffy, carpeted floor by her feet. It still takes work to make myself okay with the idea that I am so clearly expected to obey without question.

She leans forward when I settle, swirling her wine around in her glass, burning holes through me with her gaze. "We need to break you of this habit of getting so distracted, My dear. I want you here with me."  
I'm not sure I like the sound of that. My ass still-  
"How does it feel to sit down?" She inspects her nails briefly. There's a cocky edge to her voice that makes my hair stand on end, in a good way.

"I'm a little sore, but I can sit."

She nods. "If I have to break you out of a reverie again tonight, Miss Swan, I will amend that."

Heat floods both my face and my lower belly. The actual spanking wasn't all that fun, it hurt...but the build up... the way I felt afterwards... the proximity and the contact between us... Intoxicating. Almost worth the pain. Fuck it... definitely worth it.

She grins at me widely... like she knows what I'm thinking, and then her features relax. "You know, this... thing... whatever it is, Emma... it's not exactly ethical."  
"Probably not, but we're both adults." I reason with a shrug.

She crosses her legs at the knee and bobs her foot absentmindedly, her stiletto bouncing up and down a few inches from my face. She looks like she's lost in thought and I'm getting impatient. As I open my mouth to speak, she returns her attention to me and cuts me off, "So let's discuss that reading assignment that you didn't actually do, Miss Swan." She gives me a pointed look of disapproval, but continues. "What are your thoughts on the psychosocial implications of sexual deviancy?"

How irritating. I want to be sexually deviant with this woman... I don't want to talk about school assignments, but this is what that stupid abstract ass quiz is going to be about, and I'm supposed to get an A. Still, I have a sense of humor, and I can't help myself, "Well, like, if you're always inside fucking like madwomen, you won't have any social life and you might end up developing agoraphobia and never leave your house again, except to collect trash to hoard."

She wants to laugh. I can see it, but it fades as fast as I catch it. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward to grab my earlobe, pulling me to her a little faster than I can move comfortably. She maneuvers me so that I am on my knees, facing away from her, with my back against her chest. I can feel her breath tickle my ear and it's instant goosebumps for me. She chuckles darkly and her right hand cups my chin. "Look right over there on that wall, my dear. Do you see that?"  
I see it. I wish I hadn't.

"What is that, Emma?" She asks. 

I can hear her grinning. Her left hand is playing with the fabric of my shirt. She slides it up and across my breasts lightly.

"It's an instrument of... correction."

"You could say that. But try again."

Her right hand slides down and rests on my throat.

"It's... it's a paddle." And it is. It's a scary looking, footlong, wooden paddle with a black veneer.

"Mhm," She murmurs, sliding her left hand down the front of my cardigan and tightening her grip around my throat slightly, "and what might it be used for?"

I do my best to consider a response, which is fucking hard now that all my blood has rushed away from my head. A rather inconvenient development, really...

"To correct the course of a boat?" I offer, clinging to my humor like some kind of life support. Her grip tightens and she pushes her left hand into my bra and pinches my left nipple really goddamn hard. I clench my teeth and inhale, trying to focus. She laughs and it's so evil, I love it. Her voice is still soft, "Very smart." She purrs.  
"So, my pretty little boat, do you really want to stray off course with me tonight?

"No, Miss Mills." I answer honestly. I don't want anything to do with that evil looking thing.

"Good girl."

Ohhhh, I like that. I like that a lot. More than I thought I would. She loosens her grip, but she doesn't let me go.

"So tell me something about the psychosocial implications of sexual deviancy."

Suddenly, her right hand has found its way between my underwear and my body and she is stroking my clit. Her teeth graze my earlobe, and her left hand soothes the skin it assaulted moments before. How am I supposed to think? How can I be expected to formulate a reasonable response under these conditions?! She stops stroking me and starts counting.

"10...9...8... do not let me get to 1, Em-ma, 7-"

I panic a bit. "Uh hm, someone with a particularly deviant interest may feel isolated and stop seeking company. They could become depressed?"

She is quiet, but she starts rubbing my clit in fast, firm little circles. I struggle to keep my hands on my knees as my breath catches in my throat. "I'll accept that." She says, concentrating on me now.

It's the whole package of Regina Mills that works both for me, and against me... it's the way she smells, the way she looks, the faces she makes, the things she does with her voice... the way she administers to me. She is equal parts intimidating and arousing. Hearing her breathe in my ear as she touches me brings me straight to the edge and I slam my knees together, stilling her hand, just to keep from cumming.

"Open. Your. Legs." She growls, seizing my nipple again.

I didn't know that weird whine could even come out of me as I force myself to obey.

"Don't cum." She warns me seriously as she continues.. I can feel a sheen of sweat forming on my forehead, it's that hard to hold off. I lean my head back against her shoulder, and she kisses my neck sweetly, but she doesn't stop. Then, she withdraws her hand and raises her fingers to her lips, licking the length of her middle finger. She smiles and grabs a fistful of my hair with her left hand.

"Do you know how good you taste, you silly little thing?" She bares her teeth aggressively. Jesus Christ. Save me. I don't know what to say. She kisses me and I catch a hint of my own tang on her lips before she drags her teeth along my lower lip, tugging roughly. She presses her forehead to mine.

"I just want to eat you alive." She whispers, pulling my hair gently.

"I'm right here." I remind her.

Another laugh, "Mhm." She pushes me away, "I have infinite self-control, Emma Swan."

I now know I'm not getting any further tonight and the pout must be written all over my face. I think they call this feeling "blue balls" or whatever. "I don't know... you couldn't help but touch yourself yesterday." I snap, frustrated, and unable to stop myself. Her smile vanishes. She draws herself up, setting her jaw in that way she does. 

"Alright, brat." She responds somewhat evenly, "if I didn't think you needed to do a lot more studying before tomorrow, you would be over my knee again."

She stands up and heads across the room to a hutch along the wall. She's looking through one of the drawers. What the fuck is she doing? Oh, please don't be getting anything that hurts too much...

She comes back with a little cardboard Amazon box in one hand and holds the other out to me, "Stand up." I take her hand and let her pull me to my feet. She presses the box to my stomach. "Now, instead of getting to play some more, you will go home and study, little girl. You're lucky I don't make you wear these tonight." She pulls me to her by the front of my shirt and wraps her arms around my waist tightly, "You will wear them tomorrow."

I frown and accept it in silence. She releases me. I find myself walking back to the door, cursing myself for being a smartass. As I open the door, I remember she drove me there, but there is already an Uber in the driveway. I don't know when she ordered it, but she works in mysterious ways.

No sooner than the car door closes, the driver lowers my window and there she stands. She puts both hands on the car and leans in with an evil smile. She draws a breath in and I know she's going to let him hear what she has to say.

"Show me what a good girl Emma Swan can be. Don't you dare cum tonight. I will ask tomorrow. Do you understand me?"

The fire between my legs hasn't gone out since class, but somehow it just gets more intense. The driver chokes on his Dr. Pepper and she raises a brow. Fuck. Me.

"Yes, Miss Mills."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the last one. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride so far. Let me know what you think!

I cannot fucking believe this. I slept through my alarm. Class starts in 25 minutes and the drive is at least 20 minutes in the morning traffic.

I spring out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth, freshen up in general, throw a bra and a shirt on and open my underwear drawer when the box she haves me catches my eye, sitting atop the dresser. I was so tired when I came in, I'd left it unopened. I tear the end off and look inside.

Panties?

Little lacy black panties. She told me to wear them, so I take them out and see the crotch area is like, padded or something. I don't have time to think about this shit. I slip them on and follow them with my jeans. My boots aren't even laced up as I stumble out the door to catch the shuttle to school.

I finally make it to the door of the classroom and I'm nervous. I don't know if I studied enough. I'm late by like 10 minutes... I take a deep breath and push it open. I avoid eye contact as I slip between her desk and the front row of students, who are hunched over their quizzes already. I sit in my back row desk and rummage through my bag for a pencil. I hear her heels approaching.

I know her rule. Any student who is late on any kind of quiz or exam day loses points off the top. I'm already at a 5 point disadvantage. A white paper slides across the desk, pushed by a set of beautifully manicured, now ruby-red nails. I wonder when she finds time to get them done. I let my gaze wander up her arm, beyond the rolled sleeves of her black silk button down and up to her face. Her left eye brow is lifted and her face gives me no hint of how agitated or apathetic she might be. She taps the desk subtly, an indication that I should begin, and she walks away. Her ass looks sooooo nice in that coal grey pencil skirt with the black chevron pattern.

She knows I'm looking because she drops her arm, opens her palm, and dangles what looks like a little remote from a ring on her middle finger. I don't get it.  
I reluctantly turn my attention to my quiz. 

33 questions?! What kind of quiz is this? This looks like an exam, and judging by the first page of questions, I'm really going to have to bullshit my way through this on luck. I press my pencil to the paper and I realize I'm starting to notice some... heat. I frown and try to concentrate, but it just seems to be increasing. She would give me some kind of devil underwear from hell just to throw me off in class.

I'm not going to react. I'm not going to look at her. I'm going to get an A. I'm not going to react. I'm not going to look at her. I'm going to get an A. I'm not going to react. I'm not going to look at her. I'm going to-

My lungs draw air in sharply without my consent. There are... vibrations happening between my legs. I have to scoot my ass forward and lean back in the chair because when I sit up straight, it's actually audible. It shifts in variable patterns and sometimes it stops altogether. It is pure torture. I can barely catch my breath. It's not enough to make me cum. There's just not enough contact, but it's enough to make me as wet as I can get, and make me feel desperate for more.

I spend the rest of the allotted quiz time sweating and shifting, refusing to look at her, and trying, desperately, to finish the stupid questions. She is up collecting the papers, which she will grade and hand back after the class takes a half hour break. My classmates shuffle out and I remain seated, trying to hold my shit together as she settles back at her desk.

Now that I am actively staring at her, she won't look up at me.

After 15 more minutes of my suffering, she puts her pen down and picks up that little remote. The vibrations stop, thank God. She looks up and beckons me with a finger. I walk up to her desk so worked up, I just hope she doesn't ask me to speak. She comes around and meets me in front of her desk, sitting against the edge. She smooths her shirt and reaches down to shimmy her skirt up a bit so she can pull me between her legs.

"Over my knee. Elbows on the desk, Miss Swan."

Her instructions are simple and I do as I'm told as well as I can. I knew I wasn't going to get away with being late. She pushes my jeans down to my thighs, pulls my panties up, wedgie style, and starts spanking me without any further ado. I blink involuntarily every time the crack of impact breaks the silence. It's hard, fast, and feels purely punitive. I'm not quite enjoying this one, but I don't think that matters. I'm just trying to keep my hands in front of me and my feet on the floor, and she is not making it easy. She's not even scolding me or anything. I'm left to anticipate the pain and listen to her hand meet my sore skin. This sucks. She breaks me down much more quickly today. She stops briefly to reach back and grab a wooden ruler she had in her drawer. Not that a psych teacher really needs one of those, but whatever. It really hurts. She struggles to keep me in position, but she doesn't complain.

Finally, she lets me up, but she doesn't let me go. She waits until I catch my breath and blink the tears off my eyelashes, reaching up to wipe them away with her thumb.

"You were late, bad girl." She scolds me quietly, fixing my panties and pulling my pants up. I hear the affection in her voice, though. I kind of just want to curl up against her and melt into her, but I know that can't happen. Not now, anyway. Someone is knocking on the door already.

She unlocks it and my classmates come back to the classroom periodically. She sends me back to my desk as she finishes up with the quizzes. The vibrations begin again and force me back into my earlier position. 

Unfortunate, because now my ass is sore and my pussy is wet and hot and aching...I consider excusing myself to the bathroom just so I can relieve myself a. little. This is utter torture. I shake my head. I don't even want to think about what the repercussions for doing that would be. I'll suffer, I guess. I realize I have been absentmindedly running my fingers over my hard nipples through my shirt and I stuff my hands under my thighs as she begins to hand the quizzes back. She doesn't give me mine. I'm definitely staying after class.

I can't focus in the least for the rest of lecture and she catches me in my own head several times. Hopefully, she is understanding, but even if she isn't, I will keep coming back to her. She's so magnetic and dangerous and pretty and mean in just the right way for me... I really, really, really want to cum. She has been fucking with my head and my body for the last like, three days and I have not cum once. I'm pretty sure I'm going to die soon. It's all I can do to tune out the pulsing vibrations between my legs.

When I come back to earth, the classroom is empty. It's her heels again that snap me back. She is standing in front of me again.

She grabs my ponytail roughly and pulls me to the front of the room again, pushing me up against the desk. I worry briefly that she is going to spank me again because I know I would take it for her and that I would fucking enjoy it later, despite how much I would hate it now, however, she turns me around to face her and pushes me down to my knees. She hikes her skirt up around her waist and she's not wearing any panties or stockings like she usually is.

She grabs my head and yanks me to her, shoving my face right to her pussy. She might be as wet as I am and she tastes as amazing as she smells. I slip two fingers inside her as I eat and she feels like silk. She guides me... she makes this little noise... a really soft sigh, when she really likes something I'm doing, so I keep doing it and I'm really proud of myself when she cums hard on my tongue and my fingers. She braces herself against the desk and shudders, her toned thighs tensing up, her hand still wrapped up in my hair. She whispers my name to herself and I just can't fucking even. It's almost as surprising as the kiss she gives me before she catches her breath. I can feel her lipstick on my lips.

She takes her sweet time recovering before she grabs me by my throat aggressively and shoves me hard against the desk. Her red lips part when she growls in my ear. She crams her hand down my pants again. It's all happening so fast...

She is inside me, rocking the heel of her palm against my clit while she fucks me. She chokes me and stares right into my eyes. She's not going to make me wait now. I've been riding a wave for so long, I'm right there. I feel it. I'm about to cum. I clench everything, squeezing her fingers inside me...

"What do you say to the woman who is bringing you soooooo much pleasure, Emma?" She demands to know breathily.

I know I have to hold off to answer her. She hasn't said I can cum.

"Thank you, Miss Mills." I force out. She's choking me pretty hard.

She pulls her hand out, slaps my cheek firmly, and totally throws me all the way off. She's grinning that evil fucking grin again.

No no no no no no no no no. I do not want to suffer this torment anymore.

She puts one hand on the desk beside me, wraps the other around my waist, and leans in to bite my neck, leaving kisses from the sore spot to my chin. She kisses my mouth again and I pout against her lips, still hoping she will finish me off. She inhales and puts her lips right next to my ear, pushing her knee between my thighs and up against my pussy, and makes sure she’s holding me tightly against her. 

"Too bad you only pulled a B."


End file.
